


Zerophilia

by Grinner_H



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: F/M, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:53:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grinner_H/pseuds/Grinner_H





	Zerophilia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ominous_Rain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ominous_Rain/gifts).



His proclivity for _biting_ notwithstanding, Hibari Kyouya does _not_ like _teeth._ Not in places they have no business _being,_ anyway. 

_This,_ Chrome Dokuro - better than anyone - knows well, and when she gently eases her small mouth over Hibari's cock, she is all lips and a rapidly loosening throat. She's got her thighs set apart, knobby knees pressed hard against smooth, cold marble. The fingers of her left hand are wrapped around places her mouth can't reach, the ones on her right slip in and out of her, rhythmic like the dull ticking of a metronome.

Chrome likes to think she _understands_ Hibari, _knows_ things about him no one else _can_ or _should._ She knows that he always wears gray in the winter, knows that he goes to sleep on the right side of the bed and wakes up on the left, knows that he can't stand the smell of wheatgrass, and that he's allergic to pollen.

She knows that he resents teeth on any part of his body during sex - not because of the pain, but because he hates the thought of _belonging_ to someone. Teeth marks indicate _ownership,_ and Hibari Kyouya is no one's conquest. 

Sometimes, Chrome wants nothing more than to _bite._ Leave her mark - in places less delicate, of course, cruelty is not in her nature - like tacit claims all over his neck, his collarbone, the broad set of his shoulders. Angry red marks that scream, _MineMineMine!_

Chrome wants and wants and _wants_ everything she knows she can't have, so she settles for pushing her fingers further into her wet folds, rubbing her thumb against her clit in _that_ way that makes her groan something sweet, something wanton around Hibari's cock.

She hears Hibari's hiss of pleasure, feels the head of his cock in the back of her throat and it's hard not to gag, no matter how much practice she's had. Chrome clenches around her fingers, wonders if this is what her mouth feels like around Hibari - all velvet tightness and slick heat.

She wants to ask, but she can't with her mouth full, can't if it _wasn't,_ anyway, because she would never be so bold. So she sucks - hard and fast, tongue pressing against the length of him the way the delicate pad of her thumb caresses her clit - and looks up at him, seeking answers in his eyes to questions she does not dare give voice to. 

Hibari smells like lust, tastes like corruption; and when he looks down at her, his blue-gray eyes are like heated steel - scorching gaze burning itself into hers like an invisible brand. 

In it, Chrome reads, _**I** am the one who owns **you.**_

It is enough to make her cum.

\--

 _This is a first,_ Hibari realizes, surprise and mild awe swimming somewhere beneath all that bone-rocking pleasure.

It is the first time he sees her cum, and Hibari decides he enjoys it very much indeed.

She's not _pretty_ like Miura Haru, not _sexy_ like the Poison Scorpion, but Chrome Dokuro is a thing of _beauty._ She is dark hair that falls from the crown of her head down to the tops of her modest breasts. A single, large violet eye on a delicate, heart-shaped face, lips that are stretched pale and thin over the girth of Hibari's cock. 

Hibari likes it - the earnest way she grips the base of him, the way she does not stop sucking even in the throes of her own pleasure. He adores the slender line of her bird-like neck, the twig-thin waistline, the shudder of her diminutive frame, and the violent tremble of her thighs.

He can't tear his gaze off her, not even when that hand that is wet between her legs trails over the mound of her cunt, upward along the side of her right hip to her breast; slow like the calculated movements of a femme fatale, maddening like a seductress's tease.

And unexpectedly, she inserts two of her fingers - still slick with her cum - into her mouth, strokes the side of Hibari's pulsing length.

The sudden rush of pleasure brings forth a deep groan from Hibari's lips and his eyes unwittingly slip close. It feels something like electricity, something like _heatheatheat,_ too much like insanity. Hibari tangles his hand in her hair, and he's not quite sure if it's 'cause he needs something to hold on to, or if he's just trying to feel _more_ of her.

But then, he _feels_ it - that chilly, tingling sensation, like millions of tiny teeth gnawing his spine - and Hibari _knows_ that something has gone horribly, horribly _wrong._

The hair in his hand feels _fuller,_ somehow - _weightier_ \- and when he opens his eyes, it is the sight of a zigzag bisecting strands upon strands of dark blue that first greets him. 

Chrome's eyes - _both_ of them - looking up at him are of two incorrect hues. Her face is much sharper, her chest much flatter, her body too lengthy. Strength in place of frailty, hard muscle beneath a lean frame, scars in all the wrong places. And between the pair of long, sinewy thighs - a hard, wet cock, twitching and throbbing in a way that makes _Hibari's_ cock jump and his mouth go dry. 

It is not Chrome Dokuro's mouth he's fucking, and _that_ realization makes him _harder._

Somewhere in the back of his lust-clouded mind, Hibari wonders if this is an illusion, wonders if he's gone completely insane.

\--

Rokudou Mukuro enjoys the way Hibari stares down at him - all pleasure and confusion and _wantwantwant._

He's always been fascinated by Hibari's eyes - deep, dark pools of condescension and contempt; always glinting murder like moonlight on the edge of a blade, always seeking the thrill of a fight.

Even in this moment, Hibari reeks of dominance. _I'll take you,_ his face seems to say. _Whoever you are, I'll take you._

Mukuro revels in it - the sight of Hibari's bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat, the dark flush of his cheeks, his lips parted around groans of pleasure and questions Mukuro knows he's got to be _dying_ to ask.

Mukuro tightens his lips around Hibari's erection, thinks that Hibari tastes too much like power, like raw pride he just wants - _has_ \- to break.

He places his hands on Hibari's hips, fingers digging into alabaster skin like eager fangs sinking into meat. He pulls his head back slowly, sliding his lips along Hibari's length until they're wrapped only around the head of his cock. 

Mukuro holds Hibari's gaze, eyes smiling where his mouth cannot.

And then he bites down.


End file.
